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Henry Van Dyke - Twilight in the Alps
Work rating: Medium

I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair 
     And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells
To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells 
     Go chiming after her across the fair 
And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare
     Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells,
And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells 
     Of peace are woven through the purple air. 

Dear is the magic of this hour: she seems
     To walk before the dark by falling rills,
And lend a sweeter song to hidden streams;
     She opens all the doors of night, and fills
With moving bells the music of my dreams,
     That wander far among the sleeping hills.
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